FOr this last half Year I have been troubled with the disease (as I may call it) of Translation; the cold Prose fits of it, (which are always the most tedious with me) were spent in the History of the League; the hot, (which succeeded them) in this Volume of Verse Miscella­nies. The truth is, I fancied to my self a kind of ease in the change of the Paroxism; never suspecting but that the humour wou'd have wasted it self in two or three Pastorals of Theocritus, and as many Odes of Horace. But finding, or at least thinking I found, something that was more pleasing in them, than my ordinary producti­ons, I encourag'd my self to renew my old ac­quaintance with Lucretius and Virgil; and im­mediately [Page] fix'd upon some parts of them which had most affected me in the reading. These were my natural Impulses for the undertaking: But there was an accidental motive, which was full as forcible, and God forgive him who was the occasion of it. It was my Lord Roscomon's Essay on translated Verse, whose made me un­easie till I try'd whether or no I was capable of following his Rules, and of reducing the specula­tion into practice. For many a fair Precept in Poetry, is like a seeming Demonstration in the Mathematicks; very specious in the Diagram, but failing in the Mechanick Operation. I think I have generally observ'd his instructions; I am sure my reason is sufficiently convinc'd both of their truth and usefulness; which, in other words, is to confess no less a vanity than to pretend that I have at least in some places made Examples to his Rules. Yet withall, I must acknowledge, that I have many times exceeded my Commission; for I have both added and omitted, and even some­times very boldly made such expositions of my Au­thors, as no Dutch Commentator will forgive me. Perhaps, in such particular passages, I have [Page] thought that I discover'd some beauty yet undisco­ver'd by those Pedants, which none but a Poet cou'd have found. Where I have taken away some of their Expressions, and cut them shorter, it may possibly be on this consideration, that what was beautiful in the Greek or Latin, wou'd not appear so shining in the English: And where I have enlarg'd them, I desire the false Criticks wou'd not always think that those thoughts are wholly mine, but that either they are secretly in the Poet, or may be fairly deduc'd from him: or at least, if both those considerations should fail, that my own is of a piece with his, and that if he were living, and an Englishman, they are such, as he wou'd probably have written.

For, after all, a Translator is to make his Au­thor appear as charming at possibly he can, pro­vided he maintains his Character, and makes him not unlike himself. Translation is a kind of Drawing after the Life; where every one will acknowledge there is a double sort of likeness, a good one and a bad. 'Tis one thing to draw the Out-lines true, the Features like, the Proportions exact, the Colouring it self perhaps tolerable, and [Page] another thing to make all these graceful, by the posture, the shadowings, and chiefly by the Spirit which animates the whole. I cannot without some indignation, look on an ill Copy of an excellent Original▪ Much less can I behold with patience Virgil, Homer, and some others, whose beau­ties I have been endeavouring all my Life to imi­tate, so abus'd, as I may say to their Faces by a botching Interpreter. What English Readers unacquainted with Greek or Latin will believe me or any other Man, when we commend those Authors, and confess we derive all that is par­donable in us from their Fountains, if they take those to be the same Poets, whom our Ogleby's have Translated? But I dare assure them, that a good Poet is no more like himself, in a dull Translation, than his Carcass would be to his living Body. There are many who understand Greek and Latin, and yet are ignorant of their Mo­ther Tongue. The proprieties and delicacies of the English are known to few; 'tis impossible even for a good Wit, to understand and practice them without the help of a liberal Education, long Reading, and digesting of those few good Au­thors [Page] we have amongst us, the knowledge of Men and Manners, the freedom of habitudes and con­versation with the best company of both Sexes; [...]nd in short, without wearing off the ru [...]t which [...]e contracted, while he was laying in a stock of Learning. Thus difficult it is to understand the [...]urity of English, and critically to discern not [...]nly good Writers from bad, and a proper stile [...]rom a corrupt, but also to distinguish that which [...]s pure in a good Author, from that which is vi­ [...]ious and corrupt in him. And for want of all these [...]equisites, or the greatest part of them, most of [...]ur ingenious young Men, take up some cry'd up English Poet for their Model, adore him, and [...]itate him as they think, without knowing where­ [...] he is defective, where he is Boyish and trifling, [...]herein either his thoughts are improper to his [...]ubject, or his Expressions unworthy of his Thoughts, or the turn of both is unharmoni [...]us. Thus it appears necessary that a Man shou'd be nice Critick in his Mother Tongue, before he [...]ttempts to Translate a foreign Language. Nei­ [...]er is it sufficient that he be able to Iudge of [...]ords and Stile; but he must be a Master of [Page] them too: He must perfectly understand his Au­thors Tongue, and absolutely command his own: So that to be a thorow Translatour, he must be a thorow Poet. Neither is it enough to give his Authors sence, in good English, in Poetical ex­pressions, and in Musical numbers: For, though all these are exceeding difficult to perform, there yet remains an harder task; and 'tis a secret of which few Translatours have sufficiently thought. I have already hinted a word or two concerning it; that is, the maintaining the Character of an Author, which distinguishes him from all others, an [...] makes him appear that individual Poet whom you wou'd interpret. For example, not only the thoughts, but the Style and Versification of Vir­gil and Ovid, art very different: Yet I see, even in our best Poets, who have Translated some parts of them, that they have confounded their several Talents; and by endeavouring only at the sweetness and harmony of Numbers, have made them both so much alike, that if I did not know the Originals, I shou'd never be able to Iudge by the Copies, which was Virgil, and which was O­vid. It was objected against a late noble Pain­ter, [Page] that he drew many graceful Pictures, but few of them were like. And this happen'd to him, because he always studied himself more than those who sate to him. In such Translatours I can easily distinguish the hand which perform'd the Work, but I cannot distinguish their Poet from another. Suppose two Authors are equally sweet, yet there is a great distinction to be made in sweet­ness, as in that of Sugar, and that of Honey. I can make the difference more plain, by giving you, (if it be worth knowing) my own method of proceeding, in my Translations out of four se­veral Poets in this Volume; Virgil, Theocritus, Lucretius and Horace. In each of these, be­fore I undertook them, I consider'd, the Genius and distinguishing Character of my Author. I look'd on Virgil, as a succinct and grave Ma­jestick Writer; one who weigh'd not only every thought, but every Word and Syllable. Who was still aiming to crowd his sence into as narrow a compass as possibly he cou'd; for which reason he is so very Figurative, that he requires, (I may almost say) a Grammar apart to construe him. His Verse is every where sounding the ve­ry [Page] thing in your Ears, whose sence it bears: Yet the Numbers are perpetually varied, to increase the delight of the Reader; so that the same sounds are never repeated twice together. On the con­trary, Ovid and Claudian, though they Write in Styles differing from each other, yet have each of them but one sort of Musick in their Verses. All the versification, and little variety of Clau­dian, is included within the compass of four or five Lines, and then he begins again in the same tenour; perpetually closing his sence at the end of a Verse, and that Verse commonly which they call golden, or two Substantives and two Adje­ctives with a Verb betwixt them to keep the peace. Ovid with all his sweetness, has as little variety of Numbers and sound as he: He is always as it were upon the Hand-gallop, and his Verse runs upon Carpet ground. He avoids like the other all Synalaepha's, or cutting off one Vowel when it comes before another, in the follow­ing word: So that minding only smoothness, he wants both Variety and Majesty. But to return to Virgil, though he is smooth where smoothness is requir'd, yet he is so far from affecting it, [Page] that he seems rather to disdain it. Frequently makes use of Synalaepha's, and concludes his sence in the middle of his Verse. He is every where above conceipts of Epigrammatick Wit, and gross Hyperboles: He maintains Majesty in the midst of plainess; he shines, but glares not; and is stately without ambition, which is the vice of Lu­can. I drew my definition of Poetical Wit from my particular consideration of him: For propri­ety of thoughts and words are only to be found in him; and where they are proper, they will be de­lightful. Pleasure follows of necessity, as the effect does the cause; and therefore is not to be put into the definition. This exact propriety of Virgil, I particularly regarded, as a great part of his Character; but must confess to my shame, that I have not been able to Translate any part of him so well, as to make him appear wholly like himself. For where the Original is close, no Version can reach it in the same compass. Han­nibal Caro's in the Italian, is the nearest, the most Poetical, and the most Sonorous of any Tran­slation of the Aeneids; yet, though he takes the advantage of blank Verse, he commonly allows [Page] two Lines for one of Virgil, and does not always hit his sence. Tasso tells us in his Letters, that Sperone Speroni, a great Italian Wit, who was his Contemporary, observ'd of Virgil and Tully; that the Latin Oratour, endeavour'd to imitate the Copiousness of Homer the Greek Poet; and that the Latine Poet, made it his business to reach the conciseness of Demosthe­nes the Greek Oratour. Virgil therefore be­ing so very sparing of his words, and leaving so much to be imagin'd by the Reader, can never be translated as he ought, in any modern Tongue: To make him Copious is to alter his Character; and to Translate him Line for Line is impossi­ble; because the Latin is naturally a more suc­cinct Language, than either the Italian, Spanish, French, or even than the English, (which by reason of its Monosyllables is far the most com­pendious of them) Virgil is much the closest of any Roman Poet, and the Latin Hexameter, has more Feet than the English Heroick.

Besides all this, an Author has the choice of his own thoughts and words, which a Translatour has not; he is confin'd by the sence of the Inven­tor [Page] to those expressions, which are the nearest to it: So that Virgil studying brevity, and having the command of his own Language, cou'd bring those words into a narrow compass, which a Translatour cannot render without Circumlocuti­ons. In short they who have call'd him the tor­ture of Grammarians, might also have call'd him the plague of Translatours; for he seems to have studied not to be Translated. I own that endea­vouring to turn his Nisus and Euryalus as close as I was able; I have perform'd that Episode too literally; that giving more scope to Mezen­tius and Lausus, that Version which has more of the Majesty of Virgil, has less of his concise­ness; and all that I can promise for my self, is only that I have done both, better than Ogleby, and perhaps as well as Caro. So, that methinks I come like a Malefactor, to make a Speech upon the Gallows, and to warn all other Poets, by my sad example, from the Sacrilege of Translating Virgil. Yet, by considering him so carefully as I did before my attempt, I have made some faint resemblance of him; and had I taken more time, might possibly have succeeded bet­ter; [Page] but never so well, as to have satisfied my self.

He who excells all other Poets in his own Lan­guage, were it possible to do him right, must ap­pear above them in our Tongue, which, as my Lord Roscomon justly observes approaches near­est to the Roman in its Majesty: Nearest in­deed, but with a vast interval betwixt them. There is an inimitable grace in Virgils words, and in them principally consists that beauty, which gives so unexpressible a pleasure to him who best understands their force; this Diction of his, I must once again say, is never to be Copied, and since it cannot, he will appear but lame in the best Translation. The turns of his Verse, his breakings, his propriety, his numbers, and his gravity, I have as far imitated, as the poverty of our Language, and the hastiness of my per­formance wou'd allow. I may seem sometimes to have varied from his sence; but I think the great­est variations may be fairly deduc'd from him; and where I leave his Commentators, it may be I understand him better: At least I Writ with­out consulting them in many places. But two par­ticular [Page] Lines in Mezentius and Lausus, I can­not so easily excuse; they are indeed remotely ally'd to Virgils sence; but they are too like the trifling tenderness of Ovid; and were Print­ed before I had consider'd them enough to alter them: The first of them I have forgotten, and cannot easily retrieve, because the Copy is at the Press: The second is this;

This appears pretty enough at first sight, but I am convinc'd for many reasons, that the ex­pression is too bold, that Virgil wou'd not have said it, though Ovid wou'd. The Reader may pardon it, if he please, for the freeness of the confession; and instead of that, and the former, admit these two Lines which are more according to the Author,

[Page]Having with much ado got clear of Virgil, I have in the next place to consider the genius of Lucretius, whom I have Translated more hap­pily in those parts of him which I undertook. If he was not of the best age of Roman Poetry, he was at least of that which preceded it; and he himself refin'd it to that degree of perfecti­on, both in the Language and the thoughts, that he left an easie task to Virgil; who as he suc­ceeded him in time, so he Copy'd his excellen­cies: for the method of the Georgicks is plain­ly deriv'd from him. Lucretius had chosen a Subject naturally crabbed; he therefore adorn'd it with Poetical descriptions, and Precepts of Morality, in the beginning and ending of his Books. Which you see Virgil has imitated with great success, in those four Book [...], which in my Opinion are more perfect in their kind, than even his Divine Aenoids. The turn of his Verse he has likewise follow'd, in those places which Lucretius has most labour'd, and some of his very Lines he has transplanted in­to his own Works, without much variation. If I am not mistaken, the distinguishing Character [Page] of Lucretius; (I mean of his Soul and Genius) is a certain kind of noble pride, and positive as­sertion of his Opinions. He is every where con­fident of his own reason, and assuming an ab­solute command not only over his vulgar Reader, but even his Patron Memmius. For he is al­ways bidding him attend, as if he had the Rod over him; and using a Magisterial authority, while he instructs him. From his time to ours, I know none so like him, as our Poet and Phi­losopher of Malmsbury. This is that perpetu­al Dictatorship, which is exercis'd by Lucreti­us; who though often in the wrong, yet seems to deal bonâ fide with his Reader, and tells him nothing but what he thinks; in which plain sincerity, I believe he differs from our Hobbs, who cou'd not but be convinc'd, or at least doubt of some eternal Truths which he has oppos'd. But for Lucretius, he seems to disdain all man­ner of Replies, and is so confident of his cause, that he is before hand with his Antagonists; Urging for them, whatever he imagin'd they cou'd say, and leaving them as he supposes, without an objection for the future. All this too, with so much scorn and indignation, as if he were [Page] assur'd of the Triumph, before he enter'd into the [...]sts. From this sublime and daring Geni­us of his▪ it must of necessity come to pass, that his thoughts must be Masculine, full of Argu­mentation, and that sufficiently warm. From the same fiery temper proceeds the loftiness of his Expressions, and the perpetual torrent of his Verse, where the barrenness of his Subject does not too much constrain the quickness of his Fancy. For there is no doubt to be made, but that he cou'd have been every where as Poetical, as he is in his Descriptions, and in the Moral part of his Philosophy, if he had not aim'd more to instruct in his Systeme of Nature, than to de­light. But he was bent upon making Memmi­us a Materialist, and teaching him to defie an in­visible power: In short, he was so much an A­theist, that he forgot sometimes to be a Poet. These are the considerations which I had of that Author, before I attempted to translate some parts of him. And accordingly I lay'd by my natural Diffidence and Scepticism for a while, to take up that Dogmatical way of his, which as I said, is so much his Character, as to make him that individual Poet. As for his Opinions con­cerning [Page] the mortality of the Soul, they are so ab­surd, that I cannot if I wou'd believe them. I think a future state demonstrable even by natu­ral Arguments; at least to take away rewards and punishments, is only a pleasing prospect to a Man, who resolves before hand not to live mo­rally. But on the other side, the thought of being nothing after death is a burden unsupport­able to a vertuous Man, even though a Hea­then. We naturally aim at happiness, and can­not bear to have it confin'd to the shortness of our present Being, especially when we consider that vertue is generally unhappy in this World, and vice fortunate. So that 'tis hope of Futu­rity alone, that makes this Life tolerable, in ex­pectation of a better. Who wou'd not commit all the excesses to which he is prompted by his natural inclinations, if he may do them with se­curity while he is alive, and be uncapable of pu­nishment after he is dead! if he be cunning and secret enough to avoid the Laws, there is no band of morality to restrain him: For Fame and Reputation are weak ties; many men have not the least sence of them: Powerful men are only aw'd by them, as they conduce to their interest, [Page] and that not always when a passion is predomi­nant; and no Man will be contain'd within the bounds of duty, when he may safely transgress them. These are my thoughts abstractedly, and without entring into the Notions of our Christi­an Faith, which is the proper business of Di­vines.

But there are other Arguments in this Poem (which I have turn'd into English,) not belong­ing to the Mortality of the Soul, which are strong enough to a reasonable Man, to make him less in love with Life, and consequently in less ap­prehensions of Death. Such as are the natural Satiety, proceeding from a perpetual enjoyment of the same things; the inconveniencies of old age, which make him uncapable of corporeal plea­sures; the decay of understanding and memory, which render him contemptible and useless to o­thers; these and many other reasons so patheti­cally urg'd, so beautifully express'd, so adorn'd with examples, and so admirably rais'd by the Prosopopeia of Nature, who is brought in speaking to her Children, with so much autho­rity and vigour, deserve the pains I have taken with them, which I hope have not been unsuc­cessful, [Page] or unworthy of my Author. At least I must take the liberty to own, that I was pleas'd with my own endeavours, which but rarely hap­pens to me, and that I am not dissatisfied upon the review, of any thing I have done in this Au­thor.

'Tis true, there is something, and that of some moment, to be objected against my English­ing the Nature of Love, from the Fourth Book of Lucretius: And I can less easily answer why I Translated it, than why I thus Translated it. The Objection arises from the Obscenity of the Subject; which is aggravated by the too lively, and alluring delicacy of the Verses. In the first place, without the least Formality of an excuse, I own it pleas'd me: and let my Enemies make the worst they can of this Confession; I am not y [...]t so secure from that passion, but tha [...] I want my Authors Antidotes against it. He has given the truest and most Philosophical account both of the Disease and Remedy, which I ever found in any Author: For which reasons I Translated him. But it will be ask'd why I turn'd him into this luscious English, (for I will not give it a worse word:) instead of an answer, I wou'd [Page] ask again of my Supercilious Adversaries, whe­ther I am not bound when I Translate an Author, to do him all the right I can, and to Translate him to the best advantage? If to mince his mean­ing, which I am satisfi'd was honest and instru­ctive, I had either omitted some part of what he said, or taken from the strength of his expressi­on, I certainly had wrong'd him; and that free­ness of thought and words, being thus cashier'd in my hands, he had no longer been Lucretius. If nothing of this kind be to be read, Physicians must not study Nature, Anatomies must not be seen, and somewhat I cou'd say of particular pas­sages in Books, which to avoid prophaness I do not name: But the intention qualifies the act; and both mine and my Authors were to instruct as well as please. Tis most certain that barefac'd Baw­dery is the poorest pretence to wit imaginable: If I shou'd say otherwise, I shou'd have two great authorities against me: The one is the Essay on Poetry, which I publickly valued before I knew the Author of it, and with the commendation of which, my Lord Roscomon so happily begins his Essay on Tran­slated Verse: The other is no less than our ad­mir'd [Page] Cowley; who says the same thing in other words: For in his Ode concerning Wit, he writes thus of it;

Here indeed Mr. Cowley goes farther than the Essay; for he asserts plainly that obscenity has no place in Wit; the other only says, 'tis a poor pretence to it, or an ill sort of Wit, which has no­thing more to support it than bare-fac'd Ribaldry; which is both unmannerly in it self, and fulsome to the Reader. But neither of these will reach my case: For in the first place, I am only the Tran­slatour, not the Inventor; so that the heaviest part of the censure falls upon Lucretius, before it reaches me: in the next place, neither he nor I have us'd the grossest words; but the cleanliest Me­taphors we cou'd find, to palliate the broadness of the meaning; and to conclude, have carried the Poetical part no farther, than the Philosophical exacted. There is one mistake of mine which I [Page] will not [...]ay to the Printers charge, who has enough to answer for in false pointings: 'tis in the word Viper: I wou'd have the Verse run thus,

There are a sort of blundering half-witted people, who make a great deal of noise about a Verbal slip; though Horace wou'd instruct them better in true Criticism: Non ego paucis offendor maculis quas aut incuria fudit, aut humana parùm ca­vit natura. True judgment in Poetry, like that in Painting, takes a view of the whole together, whether it be good or not; and where the beauties are more than the Faults, concludes for the Poet against the little Iudge; 'tis a sign that malice is hard driven, when 'tis forc'd to lay hold on a Word or Syllable; to arraign a Man is one thing, and to cavil at him is another. In the midst of an ill natur'd Generation of Scriblers, there is al­ways Iustice enough left in Mankind, to protect good Writers: And they too are oblig'd, both by humanity and interest, to espouse each others cause, against false Criticks, who are the common Ene­mies. This last consideration puts me in mind of [Page] what I owe to the Ingenious and Learned Transla­tour of Lucretius; I have not here design'd to rob him of any part of that commendation, which he has so justly acquir'd by the whole Author, whose Fragments only fall to my Portion. What I have now perform'd, is no more than I intended above twenty years ago: The ways of our Translation are very different; he follows bim more closely than I have done; which became an Interpreter of the whole Poem. I take more liberty, because it best suited with my design, which was to make him as pleasing as I could. He had been too voluminous had he us'd my method in so long a work, and I had certainly taken his, had I made it my business to Translate the whole. The preference then is justly his; and I joyn with Mr. Evelyn in the confession of it, with this additional advantage to him; that his Reputation is already establish'd in this Poet, mine is to make its Fortune in the World. If I have been any where obscure, in fol­lowing our common Author, or if Lucretius him­self is to be condemnd, I refer my self to his ex­cellent Annotations, which I have often read, and always with some new pleasure.

My Preface begins already to swell upon me, and [Page] looks as if I were afraid of my Reader, by so te­dious a bespeaking of him; and yet I have Horace and Theocritus upon my hands; but the Greek Gentleman shall quickly be dispatch'd, because I have more business with the Roman.

That which distinguishes Theocritus from all other Poets, both Greek and Latin, and which raises him even above Virgil in his Eclogues, is the inimitable tenderness of his passions; and the natural expression of them in words so becoming of a Pastoral. A simplicity shines through all he writes: he shows his Art and Learning by disguising both. His Shepherds never rise above their Coun­try Education in their complaints of Love: There is the same difference betwixt him and Virgil, as there is betwixt Tasso's Aminta, and the Pa­stor Fido of Guarini. Virgils Shepherds are too well read in the Philosophy of Epicurus and of Plato; and Guarini's seem to have been bred in Courts. But Theocritus and Tasso, have taken theirs from Cottages and Plains. It was said of Tasso, in relation to his similitudes, Mai esce del Bosco: That he never departed from the Woods, that is, all his comparisons were taken from the Country: The same may be said, of our Theocri­tus; [Page] he is softer than Ovid, he touches the passi­ons more delicately; and performs all this out of his own Fond, without diving into the Arts and Sciences for a supply. Even his Dorick Dialect has an incomparable sweetness in its Clownishness, like a fair Shepherdess in her Country Russet, talking in a Yorkshire Tone. This was impossible for Virgil to imitate; because the severity of the Roman Language denied him that advantage. Spencer has endeavour'd it in his Shepherds Ca­lendar; but neither will it succeed in English, for which reason I forbore to attempt it, For The­ocritus writ to Sicilians, who spoke that Dia­lect; and I direct this part of my Translations to our Ladies, who neither understand, nor will take pleasure in such homely expressions. I proceed to Horace.

Take him in parts, and he is chiefly to be con­sider'd in his three different Talents, as he was a Critick, a Satyrist, and a Writer of Odes. His Mo­rals are uniform, and run through all of them; For let his Dutch Commentatours say what they will, his Philosophy was Epicurean; and he made use of Gods and providence, only to serve a turn in Poe­try. But since neither his Criticisms (which are [Page] the most instructive of any that are written in this Art) nor his Satyrs (which are incomparably be­yond Juvenals, if to laugh and rally, is to be preferr'd to railing and declaiming,) are no part of my present undertaking, I confine my self wholly to his Odes: These are also of several sorts; some of them are Panegyrical, others Moral, the rest Iovial, or (if I may so call them) Baccha­nalian. As difficult as he makes it, and as indeed it is, to imitate Pindar, yet in his most elevated flights, and in the sudden changes of his Subject with almost imperceptible connexions, that The­ban Poet is his Master. But Horace is of the more bounded Fancy, and confines himself strictly to one sort of Verse, or Stanza in every Ode. That which will distinguish his Style from all o­ther Poets, is the Elegance of his Words, and the numerousness of his Verse; there is nothing so delicately turn'd in all the Roman Language. There appears in every part of his Diction, or, (to speak English) in all his Expressions, [...] kind of noble and bold Purity. His Words are chosen with as much exactness as Virgils; but there seems to be a greater Spirit in them. There is a secret Happiness attends his Choice, [Page] which in Petronius is call'd Curiosa Felicitas, [...]nd which I suppose he had from the Feliciter [...]udere of Horace himself. But the most di­ [...]tinguishing part of all his Character, seems to me, to be his Briskness, his Iollity, and his good Humour: And those I have chiefly endea­vour'd to Coppy; his other Excellencies, I con­fess are above my Imitation. One Ode, which infinitely pleas'd me in the reading, I have at­tempted to translate in Pindarique Verse: 'tis that which is inscribd to the present Earl of Ro­chester, to whom I have particular Obligations, which this small Testimony of my Gratitude can never pay. 'Tis his Darling in the Latine, and I have taken some pains to make it my Master-Piece in English: For which reason, I took this kind of Verse, which allows more Latitude than any other. Every one knows it was intro­duc'd into our Language, in this Age, by the happy Genius of Mr. Cowley. The seeming easiness of it, has made it spread; but it has not been considerd enough, to be so well cultivated. It languishes in almost every hand but his, and some very few, (whom to keep the rest in coun­tenance) I do not name. He, indeed, has brought it as near Perfection as was possi­ble [Page] in so short a time. But if I may be al­lowd to speak my Mind modestly, and without Injury to his sacred Ashes, somewhat of the Pu­rity of English, somewhat of more equal Thoughts, somewhat of sweetness in the Num­bers, in one Word, somewhat of a finer turn and more Lyrical Verse is yet wanting. As for the Soul of it, which consists in the Warmth and Vigor of Fancy, the masterly Figures, and the copiousness of Imagination, he has ex­celld all others in this kind. Yet, if the kind it self be capable of more Perfection, though ra­ther in the Ornamental parts of it, than the Essen­tial, what Rules of Morality or respect have I broken, in naming the defects, that they may here­after be amended? Imitation is a nice point, and there are few Poets who deserve to be Models in all they write. Miltons Paradice Lost is admi­rable; but am I therefore bound to maintain, that there are no flats amongst his Elevations, when 'tis evident he creeps along sometimes, for above an Hundred lines together? cannot I admire the height of his Invention, and the strength of his expression, without defending his antiquated words, and the perpetual harshness of their sound? 'Tis as much commendation as a Man can bear, to own him excel­lent; [Page] all beyond it is Idolatry. Since Pindar was the Prince of Lyrick Poets; let me have leave to say, that in imitating him, our numbers shou'd for the most part be Lyrical: For variety, or rather where the Majesty of the thought requires it, they may be stretch'd to the English Heroick of five Feet, and to the French Alexandrine of Six. But the ear must preside, and direct the Iudgment to the choice of numbers: Without the nicety of this, the Harmony of Pindarick Verse can never be com­pleat; the cadency of one line must be a rule to that of the next; and the sound of the former must slide gently into that which follows; without leaping from one extream into another. It must be done like the shadowings of a Picture, which fall by degrees into a darker colour. I shall be glad if I have so ex­plain'd my self as to be understood, but if I have not, quod nequeo dicere & sentio tantùm, must be my excuse. There remains much more to be said on this subject; but to avoid envy, I will be silent. What I have said is the general Opinion of the best Iudges, and in a manner has been forc'd from me, by seeing a noble sort of Poetry so happily restor'd by one Man, and so grosly copied, by almost all the [...]est: A musical eare, and a great genius, if another [Page] Mr. Cowley cou'd arise, in another age may bring it to perfection. In the mean time,

I hope it will not be expected from me, that I shou'd say any thing of my fellow undertakers in this Mis­cellany. Some of them are too nearly related to me, to [...]e commended without suspicion of partiality: O­thers I am sure need it not; and the rest I have not perus'd. To conclude, I am sensible that I have written this too hastily and too loosly; I fear I have been tedious, and which is worse, it comes out from the first draught, and uncorrected. This I grant is no excuse; for it may be reasonably urg'd, why did he not write with more leisure, or, if he had it not (which was certainly my case) why did he attempt to write on so nice a subject? The objection is unanswera [...]le, but in part of recompence, let me assure the Reader, that in hasty productions, he is sure to meet with an Authors present sence, which cooler thoughts wou'd possibly have disguisd. There is undoubtedly more of spirit, though not of judgment in these uncorrect Essays, and consequently though my hazard be the greater, yet the Readers pleasure is not the less.